


Tick

by glassgoblin



Series: Random Rogues [3]
Category: Star Wars Legends: X-wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:57:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2803649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glassgoblin/pseuds/glassgoblin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Day three of a daily short-short challenge.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Tick

**Author's Note:**

> Day three of a daily short-short challenge.

Tick. Tick. Tick. He was starting to think that the quarters he had been assigned had the loudest clock on base. The horrible ticking sound it made as the minute hand passed each small hatch mark had kept him from sleep the night before and every time he woke up it caught his attention again. Sleep was one of the few things he was allowed to do without interference from security, so he resented a piece of tech that was preventing him from falling into its escape.

Tycho sat up with a deep sigh, and turned to glare at the clock and then at his pillow. At least the pillow was within reach and he punched it, trying to get it into a more comfortable shape before laying down and wrapping his arm around it again. He closed his eyes, but the ticking continued to annoy him and sleep wouldn’t come.

He knew it wasn’t just the noise from the clock; he had slept in far more uncomfortable places and shared rooms with more annoying distractions, like Wes Janson. There were just too many things to think about, and he was powerless to do anything without help from Wedge. Tycho could only blame himself for all of the restrictions he had agreed to live by, but it was important for him to be involved in this training, and these missions with Rogue Squadron. The only alternative seemed to be prison, as long as General Salm had a say in his fate.

It was just so much easier to agree to those restrictions when he hadn’t been living with them for very long. After a few weeks the boredom was killing him. He knew most of the new pilots were spending time together in the rec halls and gymnasiums, but he was spending most of his time alone in his room. He wasn’t allowed to have a terminal or techpad, even if it was limited for read-only, and when he did have permission to contact friends everything was read before he could send it, so it felt odd talking about personal things or memories.

His friends would have understood, of course, and that wouldn’t have stopped them from communicating with him in return. He was sure Wes would have joked about something inappropriate, getting them both in trouble, if given a chance. Maybe he was lonely too. He missed meals in the mess with the squad, working out with Wedge, taking Winter out for dinner and dancing, and simply being able to leave his room to spend time with people who didn’t watch him like he might break at any second.

Tycho rolled onto his other side, staring up at the clock as it ticked away the minutes. He kept telling himself that things would get better, that once he had proven his loyalty again (and again, and again) that things would get better and the ticking of that clock wouldn’t be his only company, but lying to himself was not so easy when the ticking filled all of the silence in his thoughts.


End file.
